His Gentle Nemesis
by sarasarah
Summary: Chronicling the strained friendship and non-incestuous mild romance between the very opposite personalities of Peter & Susan. Note: in my story, Peter never was Susan's brother.
1. Kind, Not Kin

_Author's Note: This is my first story so I really appreciate all R&R. My goal is to make a three part (not three chapters) story chronicling Peter and Susan's relationship from LWW, then PC and even past VotDT thru LB._

Ch.1: Kind, Not Kin

When Peter first arrived at the Pevensie home on a gray, drizzly morning many years ago, a girl of about his own age greeted him at the door with unblinking blue eyes.

He was worn out from crying, too numb and hollow in his stomach to register more than her sapphire stare and the pale freckled face which offered no welcoming smile. He thought he might dimly remember being told her name and two others but he didn't want to try to think which belonged to her… since thinking of any sort invariably led to still raw memories of the automobile accident that had orphaned him only two days ago.

The concerned adults with familiar faces and kind, anxious voices introduced him to the girl as her new brother. The woman whom he had known previously as 'Godmother Helen' smiled tremulously at them both before heading after her husband back out into the rain to gather Peter's luggage.

Alone now, the five year-old Susan offered "Hello."

"Hi," the six year-old Peter wrung out from his constricted throat.

"You're not my brother," said the girl, matter-of-factly. "Ed is my brother. Mum should know better: all new brothers and sisters come as babies."

Peter clenched his jaw tight against a rush of tears desperate to be voiced. He stared down at his slick black boots and made no answer. Yet just as he had made up his mind that the girl was cold and mean and not worth talking to, he was surprised by a warm hand that gently grasped his own clenched fist. He looked up at her to see that she was smiling now –a soft, sweet smile meant to comfort the woebegone orphan.

"You can still stay and live with us," said Susan, her voice as kindly and mature as the adults just departed. "You will be our guest."

Peter soon found that there was another little girl there in the Finchley house. This one nearly still a baby with chestnut curls, large saucer-plate green eyes, and too many dimples to count on her rosy rounded cheeks.

He met Lucy Pevensie at the breakfast table, happily banging her spoon against the polished wood top, chattering unintelligibly and splattering the air with bits of flying cream, to the dismay of the prim Susan by her side. It took but one look to thaw a corner of his frozen heart. When little Lucy let out a gurgle of joyous laughter Peter felt almost human. He smiled for the first time since the accident and Susan, watching them both, was startled by how fully a fleeting smile could change his face.

As days passed into months and months grew to years, Peter found a place in this new household. He became a playmate to Lucy and a tutor for Edmund, accepted eagerly as a big brother by the affectionate younger children.

He was careful not to intrude on the older girl, Susan, who kept through the years always distant, ever polite, but of shifting moods. For sometimes her smile lit up her eyes like a summer's blue sky and sometimes her eyes were as ice in their calm clarity; she was a shadow, she was marble; she hummed lullabies, she gave strict orders. She remained at the edge of understanding, at once aloof and large-hearted.

Peter often told himself with wry humor that Lucy was his favorite sister. While the truth of matter was, as he knew, that Lucy was his only sister. Susan could be kind but never kin.


	2. Blitzed Personalities

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Ch.2: Blitz Personalities

"Get down, Edmund!" Peter shouted as the house rocked under the impact of neighboring bombs. He trembled in relief when he spied his black-haired brother crouching behind the old oak study desk at the far end of the parlor. He was terrified that one night Ed would dare too much, would defy orders one time too many, and perish before his very eyes. Not if he could help it. Not if Edmund would just let him help.

After an hour the borough grew quiet: the night air grown still and peaceful, even if carrying a slight reek of smoke. Peter climbed to his feet and went to pull his brother out of hiding.

"Are you alright?" Peter asked, extending a broad hand in front of Edmund's face.

Edmund batted away the hand and snarled in a way that only half disguised his pain, "Right…as…rain."

"Where are you hurt?" Peter demanded immediately.

"Stupid sprained ankle. Nothing more." Edmund grimaced and hobbled upright. Passing Peter, he gave him a glower and continued on his way with fierce independence.

In the bunker, Mother, Susan and Lucy were waiting, their pale cheeks equally tear-stained. "Is it over?" Lucy was asking, her eyes humungous. She stopped when she saw the boys framed through the open trapdoor and shouted, "Pete, you're safe!" hurling herself at him.

Peter pulled Lucy close and twirled her around to start her laughing. Mother smiled at them but Edmund scowled. "Oh yeah, Pete's safe _and_ his mangy little pet."

"Must you talk that way, Edmund?" Mother asked sadly.

"What delayed you this time, Ed?" Susan asked, laying a soft white hand on his hunched shoulder.

He showed her the broken frame he had clutched to his side. "Pa's photograph."

"What?" Peter interrupted, brought back to mind his original grievance. He returned Lucy to the ground and strode forward with furious steps. "What in heaven's name were you thinking, Ed? Or were you at all? You've got to stop being so reckless! It's so selfish –don't you see how much it hurts everyone else when you're so slow to get to the bunker?"

"Well I'm sorry to inconvenience you," spat Edmund, "you self-righteous prig! What could _you_ care about _my_ father?"

Peter nearly choked on his wrath at this remark. Lucy and Mother gasped. But Susan took hold of both of Edmund's shoulders and brought him close in a protective gesture. Her cool blue eyes met Peter's enflamed ones and she said in icy tones, "Don't interfere, Peter. Of course you have no right to speak to him about Father. The family can deal with him and his behavior."

Under her sudden withering glare, Peter stumbled a few confused steps backward. Never before had Susan so openly flaunted what had been in her manner all along. And to see Edmund's head buried into her brown cardigan fully brought to bear the realization of how far the war had disrupted the brothers' bond. Their stresses and their fears had insidiously crept like poison through their blood until it seemed to Peter for a frightening moment that he was surrounded by hostile strangers.

"Don't, dears," cried Mrs. Pevensie, putting one hand on her children and opening one palm-out in mute apology to the godson she'd adopted. "Don't let's give the Germans the satisfaction of dividing us."

Peter took a deep breath and forced a paternal smile: the kind he knew Mrs. Pevensie was trying to summon: the kind he'd seen Mr. Pevensie use to placate the children before the war. "I'm sorry, Ed," he said, "for my dratted temper. Sorry, Susan, for interrupting."

They made no answer beside a brusque nod of Susan's head so Peter turned his back on them and scooped up the silent Lucy back into his arms. "Is Ed crying?" the little girl whispered.

"I don't know, Lu," he said in a low bleak voice. All he knew was that he wished the war was over.


	3. Promising Beginning

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The train whistle could be heard over the din of goodbyes. Peter instinctively braced himself and looked over at his companions to see if they'd heard.

Ed was biting down hard on his lower lip to stifle its trembling, his freckled face blanched with unspoken dread. Lucy's face was crumpled glumly but she took hold of Peter's hand like a good trooper and seemed brave enough to depart. Susan? He couldn't see past the screen of thick, wavy black tresses but he heard her whispering her last private goodbyes into Mrs. Pevensie's ear. There seemed to be some kind of dispute; Susan waving her arm for emphasis and Peter's godmother's whispered response growing shrill. Finally, Susan stepped away from her mother's embrace and –to Peter's surprise- glanced directly at him with a resigned pinch to her lovely features.

"Goodbye, darlings," Mrs. Pevensie said to them all now. A tear gleamed in her amber eyes but she pushed a handkerchief to her mouth and smiled through. "Best be off then."

The train whistled a second time and Peter quickly turned to grasp hold of luggage in each hand.

"Peter!" his godmother called after him. He looked back, saw her waving the kerchief. "Remember to look after _all of them!"_

Still looking back, he bumped into a portly man behind him and had to wonder momentarily if, at age fifteen, he could look after himself. But he trotted out his practiced paternal smile and called out, "I will, Mother!"

With a last wave, he turned in time to intercept another ambiguous look from Susan which killed his smile.

"Peter, the tickets," she reminded him, cordially enough.

He thrust them at her, blushing, ashamed to have stalled the others at the ticket master. Then they filed into the train compartments and silently helped each other load the luggage –except for Edmund, of course. Peter's lips tightened in response but he held his anger in check and let Susan verify that Edmund's things had been properly secured. Then they all settled into their seats and tried to avoid each other's eyes during the long journey.

It was better at first in the country. Mrs. Macready was so unwelcoming and stern that they unconsciously united against her –although Peter and Edmund still shared a smirk when Susan got yelled at for standing too close to an historic artifact. Ed's smirk cheered Peter no end with its intimation that perhaps their old boyish alliance persevered.

After meeting with the professor, an absent-minded man if kindly soul, the Pevensies met up in the girls' room to tuck Lucy into bed. Peter's cheerfulness had only increased upon nearly getting lost several times in the big house trying to find their room.

"Imagine what a big house like this must hold! We can go exploring," Peter grinned at the others.

"Oh well, be careful you don't get lost on your way to the loo," snickered Edmund.

Peter only cocked an amused eyebrow at him, in no mood to take offense. "Then there are the grounds, too. I think we might even find deer and stags."

"A real adventure, Peter?" Lucy asked, her unhappiness with the scratchy sheets slowly fading away. "Promise we'll go tomorrow? I want to see rabbits and beavers."

"We'll find them, Lucy," Susan said, dropping a quick kiss on the little girl's head. "Tomorrow, Peter?" she asked, smiling warmly at him.

"Tomorrow," Peter promised, well-pleased with Susan's shining glance and his own night's work in looking after them all. "Sound good, Ed?"

"Mark my words," Edmund groused aloud. "Tomorrow it'll be raining."


	4. Vocabulary & Numbers

_Author's Note: Thanks to all those who reviewed or favorited or alerted or spent a few minutes reading the story. I really appreciate feedback that lets me know I'm not just talking to myself. merlyn2, Ch.1's title is a play off of Hamlet but only because the Bard captures nuance so well. NewYear'sBaby, I'm glad the Peter/Susan feels different. Ok, short update, hopefully I'll have more by the end of the week._

Ch.4: Vocabulary & Numbers

The next day Peter stared out at the rain through the window only absently listening to the dictionary game Susan was playing with Edmund. Lucy sat snug in his lap but her expression was doleful and her gaze wistful for the bunnies and beavers now missed.

"This is the worst game ever invented!" Edmund was now protesting. "I refuse to put up with it any longer!"

"Oh, Ed, you should appreciate what an educational pastime it is. You'll benefit from it," Susan insisted. "Peter! I'm sure _you'd_ like to guess which language 'gastrovascular' derives from."

Peter cleared his throat. "Is it Latin?"

"Easy enough. See?" Susan laughed lightly at her younger brother.

Edmund scowled. "Oh well, we all know Peter's purr-fect. He can have the stuffy game all to himself."

Susan snapped the heavy dictionary shut and remarked crossly, "If you don't want to play, then we shan't."

There was a moment of tense silence; Peter doing his best to dismiss the resentment in Ed's voice while Susan smoothed the wrinkles in her skirt too intently, her hands flitting about ladylike and seemingly serene.

Edmund sprawled on the Chesterfield sofa and leveled at Peter a look of superiority. "Didn't Mum put you in charge, Pete? Isn't it your job to entertain us? Your outdoors adventure scheme failed rather miserably. Lack of foresight, that's what it was."

"Shut up, Ed," Peter warned. The implicit threat in his voice fortunately subdued the younger boy somewhat. Edmund squirmed a bit in immediate remorse but continued in plaintive entreaty, "Well, I'm bored!"

Lucy spoke up unexpectedly, "Peter, can't we play hide & seek? Please?"

"Oh, God, no," groaned Edmund, feebly jerking his foot in disgust.

"Best idea I've heard so far!" Peter said, a brisk note of authority reasserting itself.

"Who's It?" Lucy wanted to know, tugging at his arm.

"I am," Peter decided as he stood up and looked around the languid occupants of the parlor. "Alright, I give everybody up to 100 to clear this room."

Lucy ran out right away, giggling, but Edmund stayed put, his mouth hung open in protest. Peter bent and jostled his arm none too gently. "I'm Boss, remember?"

The boy scooted off the sofa and raced to the door shouting, "Alright, alright, I'm going!"

All that left Susan.

"Peter, really!" Susan met his resolute gaze with innocent reasonableness. "It's a game for children. You mustn't expect me to join in."

"Yesterday we were cooped up in train compartments for hours," Peter pointed out, refusing to be put off his duty by the lifted chin and logical accents. "We all need some exercise and we're all going to get some."

"But perhaps swimming –"

Peter arched both eyebrows. "In the rain?"

She faltered. "Or archery?"

"In the rain _and_ without your bow?" Peter shook his head and began counting. Susan hesitated, eyes narrowing, but cleared the room as he started on the twenties.

It seemed a small thing at the time but years later Peter would look back fondly on that moment for it was the first battle of wills that he had ever won against the eldest Pevensie.


	5. The Long Night

Ch.5: The Long Night

Peter went to bed that night exhausted in mind and soul. The game of hide and seek had not lasted beyond his counting as Lucy suddenly didn't want to play anymore. He hadn't known what to do once Lucy started raving about a magical country in the spare room's wardrobe, so Susan had stepped in –with a pointed glance at him, of course—and engaged them all in quiet worthy activities such as writing letters home to Mum and enclosing gifts for Dad.

Peter felt he had only been asleep for moments when a small weight bounded onto him, yelling jubilantly, and the lights were flicked on.

"Peter! Peter! It's real! Ed has gone too!" Lucy was screaming into his ear.

He struggled into a sitting position and squinted into the bright, now crowded room. He met Susan's equally mystified gaze from the open doorway and turned to the animated little girl at his side. "What is it, Lu? Can't it wait 'til morning?"

"But it's here _now_, Peter! Narnia's back!"

He groaned aloud and Susan tsked in exasperated unison. "Not that again!" protested Peter.

"I said we'd had enough of that, Lucy," scolded Susan.

"But it's real!" insisted Lucy. She turned her beseeching hazel eyes on Edmund, who stood scowling in the corner of the room, and begged, "Tell them, Ed!"

Peter tried to gather his wooly thoughts. "Wait up– what's this, Ed? You know this place Lucy's been going on about?"

The black-haired boy's scowl did not change and he muttered, so that Peter had to bend closer to hear: "I was just playing along, that's all. Can't even play a game without his High and Mighty taking offense!"

"For heaven's sake, Edmund," Susan sighed and put her pale hands to the crown of her dark hair. "Don't _encourage_ Lucy's fancies. They aren't healthy."

Lucy sat trembling on Peter's bed still staring at Edmund in shock. "You…you…" She burst into violent tears and Peter reached to comfort her but before he could wrap an arm about her small shoulders, she had jumped off the bed and raced out of the room sobbing noisily.

"Good going, Ed!" Peter yelled, throwing aside his bedsheets in order to go after his sister.

Susan's hand on his arm stopped him at the door. "Let me handle this, Pete." Her blue gaze met his: placating but determined.

Peter shook off her hand and muttered in his bad temper, "I'm more her brother than you're her sister!"

Susan's smooth forehead tightened into a frown. "That's not what I meant. It's only that you do coddle her so."

"Do not," Peter retorted testily. "And I don't see why we can't handle this together, then."

"Fine then," seethed Susan. But by the time they followed after Lucy, they found their little sister down the corridor already safe in the arms of the awakened Professor.

"Oh," Susan gasped.

"S-sir?" Peter stuttered. "So sorry for disturbing you."

The Professor looked them over through the top of his spectacles but directed his words at Lucy. "Now, little one, that's enough tears. Mrs. MacReady will take you to some nice hot cocoa." The elderly man beamed at Lucy and gestured towards the thin, sour-faced woman who'd hunted down the commotion.

Peter felt a stab of remorse for his earlier half-asleep crossness with Lucy as he saw his dear little friend taken by the hand and led away to the kitchens. He made to follow her but there was Susan's hand again, clutching the sleeve of his nightshirt.

Firmly pinning Peter to her side, Susan addressed the Professor boldly, "Sir, please, if you could only help us -- we're having some difficulty with our sister."

They spent an hour in the Professor's study, relating the strange events of the wardrobe and their sister's behavior, until the Professor gave them some strange advice in return --the most sensible part being "You're a family, aren't you? Then start behaving like one."

It was midnight when they crept back down the hall in their slippers. Susan yawned and covered her mouth daintily.

"Well, do we take the Professor's advice then? And actually believe Lucy's story?" Peter asked wearily, since Susan was the practical one.

She slanted a pensive look at him. "Oh, I don't know. He kept saying it was only logical but I can't get my head quite around it. It seems so wild to me." She shivered in her thin robe as drafts of cold air leaked through the hall walls. "I suppose all we can do is what he said about being a family –though of course he didn't have all the facts."

"Honestly, Susan!" Peter couldn't help a resentful undertone entering his voice. "Does it even make much difference? You're the only one old enough to remember what it was like before I joined the family. It seems to me that if _you_ didn't mind so much, no one else would care two pence about my being adopted."

"We're not talking about me," Susan said, her voice cooling in equal measure to his voice heating. "We're talking about Ed. He's old enough that he's starting to rebel against your taking over father's place --what with not even being a relation. It's only logical."

"Oh, logical, is it?" Peter muttered.

"Yes, and you sound quite a bit like Ed yourself," Susan retorted sharply. "Perhaps it's your bad habits that are rubbing off on him!"

Peter had to pause, suddenly remembering the smirk he'd shared with Edmund over Susan getting in trouble with Mrs. MacReady only yesterday. "Perhaps," he admitted, grinning mischievously.

Susan felt her guard weaken in the face of that twinkling smile and she shook her head at his unexpected turn to lightness, smiling a little in response. They reached her bedroom door in unusually companionable silence.

"Can I come in?" Peter asked, at once timid and deferential. "I'd like to check on Lucy, if you don't mind."

She smiled warmly at him. "Yes, of course. I think she'd like to see you –if she's not already asleep."

Together, they tiptoed into the room and quietly busied about putting out the lamps and flanked on either side the small, sleeping figure of their little sister. They shared tender smiles as they watched her steady breathing. Peter brushed his lips across the little girl's forehead. "Sleep well, Lu. I'm sorry you had such a rough day."

He began to pull away, standing up, but Lucy's eyes opened and held him still with their morose entreaty. "Peter, you do believe me?" she whispered, sleep slurring her words.

He hesitated, his heart pouring out into his sad, loving gaze.

"Hush, Lucy," Susan answered softly from the girl's left. "We'll talk tomorrow. Sleep now."

"But –" Lucy sighed.

"I love you, Lu," Peter reassured her, leaning back down to cuddle his little sister. He rubbed his cold nose against her warm one and she started to giggle weakly. Susan laughed, too, and threw an arm around Lucy's head. "And I also love you, Lucy," she whispered.

Lucy Pevensie smiled, content, cocooned cozily within Peter and Susan's embrace. Her tears were forgotten, the wet tracks dried, and her lids grew heavy. She slept.

"Don't go," Susan murmured drowsily before Peter had roused himself. "I'm afraid if she wakes with you gone she'll cry again."

"I won't," Peter promised, nonetheless thinking worriedly about Edmund sleeping alone in their room. But, knowing Ed these days, an empty room all to himself was probably exactly what he wanted.

It wasn't long before he heard Susan's even breathing join Lucy's. He looked over the top of Lucy's head and through the dark could make out the drooping head of Susan's glossy black locks. He smiled wryly to see how young and childlike Susan's porcelain face seemed in repose. He felt a sudden rush of affection for this stubborn girl who refused to have him as brother. He impulsively did what he dared not do had she been awake.

Peter stretched across and pressed a light kiss onto Susan's forehead, exactly identical to the one he'd given Lucy. "Goodnight, Su," he said into the hushed night.


	6. Allied Interval

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_Author's Note: I made some small changes to this chapter to try to show more and tell less, thanks to daisylorelei's suggestion. However, it is still basically a quick narrative of what went on before getting into Narnia._

Ch.6: Allied Interval

In the days that followed, Peter and Susan worked together to carry out the Professor's sage advice.

"It's a beautiful day," Peter remarked to start off the week, one morning at the breakfast table under the professor's encouraging eye. "Why don't we go outside and explore, as we'd planned before?"

"Yes, let's," Susan had chimed in. She nudged Edmund with a delicate elbow. "The sun is shining and the sky is clear. Why not a game of cricket?"

"You hate cricket," Edmund had answered, dark brows lowered suspiciously.

Susan had glanced over at Peter with a resigned smile. "Well, I make a good wicketkeeper, at any rate."

Together they enforced regular evening gatherings and planned occasional family activities –picnics, walks, and outdoor games. Of particular importance to Peter were those evenings together. No matter where the day had scattered the siblings, by dusk all knew to return to the small brown parlor behind the garden.

Edmund's steps might drag but he always showed up; he'd sprawl under the Oriental table so that nothing more than his skinny stocking legs could be seen, absorbed in a private game of chess whereby he poked at the underside of the table just so in order to move its topside chess piece a step or two.

"Which one, black or white?" Peter offered briskly when he first saw what his younger brother was up to. He leaned over to assemble the black and white chess pieces.

"Leave it alone!" Edmund stuck his unruly head out into the open in order to gruffly rebuff him. "I'm already playing against the white."

"Oh?" Peter asked, annoyed. "And who are they then? Ghosts?"

Edmund withdrew back under the table, like a turtle into its shell, muttering, "No, stupid. It's the Germans."

Peter frowned, reminded of the day's headlines from London. The news of the war continued to be discouraging. At first Peter had put on the radio during their quiet evenings, feeling that it made them closer to their parents somehow.

"What are you doing?" Susan had hissed, quickly closing it off. She gestured towards the frightened Lucy and depressed Edmund. "We were supposed to escape the war, Peter. Not bring it with us!"

Lucy was a different girl ever since her discovery of Narnia. She was dispirited by their disbelief and it saddened Peter that she no longer climbed into his lap for comfort, as she used to do before, instinctively of her own accord. She was wan and grown private and spent the evening hour drawing sketches of her magical country and imaginary faun friend. Sometimes Peter would study the portrait of the furry Mr.Tumnus over Lucy's shoulder and silently wonder at the creative scope of detail.

Peter dropped a kiss onto her bent head and Lucy smiled; a flash of her affection for him briefly apparent.

Susan spent the evenings sitting directly by the fire, needing the nearness to chase off her perpetual chill. Her strong voice could be heard over the crackle and pop of burning logs in the grate as she read aloud a book from the professor's library. It was soothing to Peter to hear Susan's smooth unhurried reading, although the stories themselves were confusing –being always left unfinished as Susan began anew with another book every evening.

"Why not continue yesterday's?" he asked her once, hesitantly.

Susan gave a swift shake of her head. "Ed and Lu aren't interested," she'd answered. "Perhaps tonight's story will appeal to them…"

And Peter asked no more, stifling a frustrated sigh, for it was clear his own interest warranted nothing. He shrugged instead, knowing there was no malice in her manner, merely an elegant indifference towards him that he tried (and always failed) to match.

No, there was no reason for complaint. After all, Susan was in these days his subdued and generous ally against the younger Pevensies. That wouldn't change until they entered Narnia a week later.


	7. Frostbitten

Ch.7: Frostbitten

"I'm so sorry, Lu," Peter said when his eyes slowly, incredulously, took in the sudden change of environment. He turned to the little girl behind him and swept her off her feet into a quick, warm embrace. "You were right and I was wrong! Is this Narnia, then?"

Lucy smiled shyly. "Oh yes, Peter! Everything from the lamppost to Cair Paravel!"

"Lamppost?" Susan echoed.

"Cair Paravel?" Peter repeated. The snowy wood stretched out before them as far as the eye could see. Peter breathed in the frosty air again and laughed, exhilarated: "It's absolutely amazing!"

Susan shivered at his side. "It's utterly impossible." Her teeth chattered and she took a step back into the warm wardrobe from which they had come.

Peter noticed that Susan's fair skin was reddening in the biting cold. "Su, put on one of the coats," he suggested. "We'll all take one. I don't think we should go back yet –not when there's an adventure to be had!"

Lucy nodded her head in eager agreement. "Please let's visit Mr. Tumnus first! I'm sure he'd love to meet you all --and he has the most marvelous tea with crumpets and sardines."

Peter looked to Susan for response. He watched as she slipped into a long brown fur coat and brought three more to them. "Alright," Susan said, and she was smiling, ever so slightly. "I could do with some tea. And I am sorry, Lu, for that I couldn't believe you either." Her eyes were round with awe and wonder as she took in the scenery. "It's like a dream!" She laughed and added, "Only it's much too cold for one."

Peter and Lucy exchanged grins on seeing Susan so cheerful; they quickly pulled on the fur coats Susan offered. Peter frowned when he was left holding the third coat. "Ed," he said, searching out his younger brother who lurked unobtrusively under the branches of the evergreens. "You've been awfully quiet. Aren't you surprised at all, just the tiniest bit?"

Edmund shrugged.

Lucy didn't say anything either but the sad, hurt expression on her face reminded Peter of the night she had claimed Ed had been to Narnia with her. Peter gasped in outrage at the realization.

"You've been here before, haven't you? Yet you lied about it and let Lucy…" He trembled in his fury and was rendered momentarily speechless. Finally he choked out, "You little beast!"

"There's no need to call names," Susan snapped. She took the coat from Peter and approached Edmund herself. Carefully, she tucked the warm fur coat around his small skinny frame. "Oh, Ed," she said softly and Peter was ashamed at her gentleness, knowing that he'd let his temper get the better of him yet again. "Stay with us."

But he didn't stay with them.

Edmund was there, lagging a few steps behind, when they discovered Tumnus' burnt home. He was there, scowling, when Peter read aloud the message from Maugrim accusing the faun of "fraternizing with the enemy". "Well," Ed had said, "then the faun's a criminal. Why should we be on his side?"

Susan had stared at the scene of such destruction and whispered, "I don't think I'll like this place, after all. Shouldn't we go back?"

Edmund was there when the Beaver found them and Peter, uncertain, had chosen to trust in the talking creature. "Why should we?" Ed had repeated. "There's no reason to trust him!"

Edmund was there when they huddled in the cozy Beaver dam home eating dinner. He heard the prophecy of the four thrones at Cair Paravel and he heard about Aslan's Army near the Stone Table. But when Peter, shaking his head, refused to get involved and insisted on returning home, that was when they discovered Edmund was no longer with them.

"Where is he?" Peter demanded, paling. He jumped to his feet and said to Susan and Mr. Beaver. "I'll kill him!"

Peter raced back out into the snow and called for Ed. He searched and searched, climbing up hills and through snowdrifts, until it grew too dark to see his way. Then he stopped, panting, and put his head in his hands to sob his mingled anger and fear.

Susan and the Beaver found him there a few moments later.

"It's no use, my lad," Mr. Beaver said, kindly. "He's gone to _her_. The White Witch. I knew it as soon as the little one said he'd been here before. We can't follow him, son. She'll be waiting for all four of you."

Peter took in a deep shaky breath but before he could straighten his back Susan had hurled herself at him, pushing him backwards a few steps. She was pounding on his chest with frenzied fists.

"It's all your fault!" Susan sobbed, tears gleaming in trails down her cheeks, the early moonlight illuminating her grief-ravaged face. "He hated you and now he's gone into danger because of it!"

"I'm sorry," Peter said, helplessly, his own hot tears falling onto her white clenched fists. "I loved him, though."

"You were always so angry!" she wailed.

"I'm sorry," he said again, bowing his head.

"You – you-" Susan broke off, moaning keenly her heartbreak. Peter felt his own heart break an extra crack at the sound. Shaking, he tried to comfort her: stroking her tangled black hair away from her forehead. Her eyes met his, ice blue, watery, yet clear; her crystallized bitterness a slap on his face.

"Why did Mum put you in charge?" she continued, her voice steady and deathly quiet. "I begged and begged. I told her you couldn't do it. You aren't as practical as I am; you should've turned back once we saw the poor faun's home and read that this White Witch is after humans." Another tear pooled from her eye. "Mum shouldn't have trusted you. I should have been the one. He's my brother. My only… my real…" She shook her head and concluded bitterly, "It's not the same for you. _I'm their sister._ You can't care for them as I do."

Peter's face changed at this last remark; the agonized lines smoothing out into a hard, determined calm; his miserable sympathy falling away from him, leaving him cold and clear-headed --for he knew to the depths of his soul that Susan was wrong. Silently, he pried her clinging fingers off of his coat; gently, he pushed her away from him. Peter turned to the waiting beaver.

"What can be done?" he asked simply.

The beaver bowed his head at him with a grave new deference. "Only Aslan can help us get the boy back from the White Witch."

Peter glanced around the empty snowy wastelands. They seemed to stretch in each direction without end: mysterious and very hostile. He fleetingly imagined Edmund, alone and cold, captured in some corner of this cursed realm. And then his blood seemed to turn to iron –so firm was his resolve.

Peter nodded at the beaver and the tense girl waiting at his side. "Then we go to Aslan," he said.


	8. Melting Ice

A/N: Thanks, Tigger101, for the heads up. I've rewritten parts of this chapter as a result, skipping over most of the movie's events. I hope that the story doesn't seem too rushed, though. I hope everyone enjoys! Also, btw, for those who read Ch.6 early on, I did this week make some changes to that chapter.

Ch.8: Melting Ice

They fled all night. Peter carried the large sack of supplies Mrs. Beaver had insisted on packing. When Lucy faltered, her little legs too tired to carry her a step further, Peter hoisted her up onto his back as well. He and Susan had spent the past hours avoiding each other's gaze so he was surprised and very, very grateful when she wordlessly relieved him of the supplies. He glanced at her, trying to read her expression in the torchlight of the tunnels, but all he saw was a worn muted sadness.

"The tunnels end here," Mr. Beaver warned Peter after they'd walked for hours. "We know the White Witch has already sent her wolf pack after us. If we go aboveground, we must hurry onward without pause, for they'll scent us out. If you wish to rest for the remaining hours before sunrise, then we should settle down here for a bit where it's safer."

Peter tried to consider his wisest option, almost too tired to think. Early in their flight, they had heard wolf cries split the night silence. Peter still felt the imperative to flee while they could. He turned to Susan, who stood silently listening to this counsel.

"What do you say?" Peter asked quietly.

"Lucy," Susan whispered.

Peter peered over his shoulder and glimpsed the sleeping face of his little sister clinging to his back. "I have her," he said, smiling. "She's resting already. What about you? Do you need rest?"

Susan shook her head but Peter read the weary bent of her shoulders and the haggardness of her pale countenance.

"We'll rest," Peter told the beavers firmly.

Mrs. Beaver pulled out the blankets and they all huddled near one another without a campfire's warmth. Once Lucy had been settled comfortably against her sister, Peter stretched out onto the uneven ground and felt his back finally ache in violent protest of its treatment. He didn't think he could carry Lucy again tomorrow but then he was determined to do whatever he must to make sure that Lu –and Susan—got to safety… even if he'd failed Edmund.

Although Susan was on the far side of where Peter lay, when she began to weep he could hear the muffled sounds of her ragged grief. For long moments he stared up at the tunnel's earthen ceiling and watched the flickering light of the torches throw shadows about the cavern space. When the torchlight slowly died out and Susan grew quiet, Peter slept.

--

Much changed in the new morning; a surprise visit from Father Christmas left them with regal, magical gifts and good cheer all around. But greatest of all, it heralded the weakening of the White Witch's power. For one hundred years of hard bleak winter, Narnia had been without Christmas. And now the winter itself was melting away into a fresh spring.

It tickled Peter's fancy to see the parallel with Susan. For as they walked onward to Aslan's Camp in the deepening sunshine, Susan's cold fairness warmed into a lovely freckled pink. So had her aloof manner towards him slowly softened; a murmured apology offered after she'd been too quick to make accusation when they fell into the river, a hand companionably brushing his as they traded hold of Lucy.

When Lucy yelled, "Look, bluebells!" Peter was tempted to exclaim in his matching enthusiasm "Look, a smile!" as Susan's lips upturned gladly at the sight. The haunted look about Susan's eyes since Edmund's betrayal was finally eased into peace of mind; her eyes were so blue and clear and happy that Peter idly compared them with the wildflowers dotting the countryside.

Peter was disposed to view Susan's change as one of her fleeting mood swings, a part of her changeable nature. For he was no stranger to her gentleness --only knowing that it was often frozen under her cool exterior. Yet he understood that the magic of Narnia was touching her spirit as nothing before had; it touched him, too. And when they stood before Aslan, questioned as to how Edmund had betrayed them, they were both smote with the same awesome terror.

Peter said, "It's partly my fault, Aslan. I was too hard on him" because it was true. But when Susan confessed equal guilt he was puzzled.

What would puzzle him most –thrill, warm, content him most—was when Susan cried his name and hugged him tight after he slew the wolf. They were both shaky and unsettled at the brush with death but her loving embrace was something he could never in his wildest dreams have expected.


	9. Truce Under the Stars

A/N: Here's the second part of this morning's update. I thought it worked somewhat better with a chapter break even if typed all at once.

Ch.9: Truce Under The Stars

Peter left Aslan's tent with heavy steps and set up post at the edge of camp, leaning his shoulder against a tent pole, staring pensively off into the horizon. He was so lost in thought that he stood as unmoving as a statue.

"What is it?" Susan asked that evening, passing by his post with a basketful of bedding as dusk settled over the valley. "Why aren't you with the others?"

Peter stirred and answered gravely, "Aslan sent Oreius and his Guard after the escaped wolf. He believes that they'll find Edmund –and bring him back."

"Oh, thank God," Susan breathed, hand covering her mouth, suddenly falling back against a neighboring tent pole as if she might faint in her relief.

"Yes," Peter said, and shivered with a mix of wild anticipation and apprehension. "I hope he's safe."

Susan grew thoughtful, following his gaze. "Are you waiting for him?"

Peter nodded.

"All night?" she asked.

"If need be," he answered, mildly enough.

And Susan, sighing deeply, said, "I'm so sorry, Peter."

He looked at her questioningly. Two apologies in one day from Susan easily being a record worth note.

Her eyes were very sad and large, brimming with regret. "I know you better," she said, gently clasping his hand. "I know Lucy and Edmund –the Edmund of before the war at home—love having you as big brother. You have been good to them. You do care for them very nearly as much as I do," she admitted.

Peter raised one eyebrow, smiling nonetheless. It soothed his heart to hear her apology for what had been undoubtedly the worst night of his life since his parents' death.

"Well," Susan said, cheeks flushing, "perhaps you might even love Lucy a little more than I –as might I Edmund. Is that fair?"

"Not to them," he pointed out.

"No," Susan conceded and her fingers slipped out of his hold. "But perhaps it's only logical as our natures are more similar to one or the other."

Peter winced slightly at the return to logic. "Perhaps," he said.

They were quiet until Peter suddenly remembered her close embrace just hours earlier and he was driven to ask, "And you? I know Lu and -at least once upon a time- _Ed_ accepted me as brother but...you? Have we finally made truce then? You'll have me as your brother?"

Susan turned to look at him, her gaze measuring him for a moment before she softly whispered, "No, not quite."

"Why not?" Peter asked, heartfelt.

Susan didn't say anything. Then, absent-mindedly, she commented, "Lucy is probably waiting for her blanket."

Peter blocked off her path with a frown. "That's not fair. Please, tell me," he beseeched, his voice rising in long pent-up frustration. "Susan, you've never talked to me before!"

Which was a lie and not a lie, as they both knew.

"I don't know," Susan answered tiredly, biting on her lower lip, avoiding his searching gaze. "Maybe you think it's silly of me but I can't help it. I was the eldest, Peter, and I don't need a big brother."

"Oh, Susan," Peter sighed and he returned to his post with restless steps, face turned away dejectedly. "Still?"

There was no answer for a long moment and then he felt gentle arms tuck a wool blanket around his stiff back, heard a placating murmur at his ear, "I'll come back, Peter, to wait with you. But I need to see Lucy into bed." Then she was gone.

Night fell; darkness deepened. Peter sat with folded legs upon the cold ground; blanket draped about his shoulders like a king's cape. His fingers absently stroked the pommel of his sword, Rhindon, and his thoughts went from Edmund to Susan to Edmund and to Susan back again. Perhaps, in the end, they were but two faces of the same coin; together but the Pevensies that resisted the intruder.

When the hour was latest, Peter heard a rustle of approaching skirts. Soon, Susan slid into place beside him. "May I sit with you, Peter?" she asked, a yawn breaking through her words.

"You may do as you please," Peter observed a trifle sourly.

"Oh, good," Susan said, and she promptly borrowed a corner of his blanket.

"Lucy is sleeping?" Peter asked.

"Yes." She added, her voice ringing with gladness, "And Edmund is on his way home."

"Then all is well," he agreed.

"Peter," Susan said, facing him in the dim scattered starlight, "I do want to be your friend."

"Oh, Susan," Peter despaired again, putting his head in his hands. "Haven't I at least been that to you?"

"You have been," she admitted, tone earnest. "Not I –only imperfectly." Susan leaned her head back against the tent pole, stray wisps of her black curls brushing against his neck. She whispered, marveling at the Narnian constellations, "Oh, Peter, so much more in this world is possible than I had ever imagined could be!"

She sounded so young. The fourteen year old that her age was rather than the mature miniature adult Peter had known for all the nine years he'd spent in the Pevensie household. A short chuckle escaped Peter, his muscles beginning to loosen as he caught her mood. "Well, I _was_ knighted today. Didn't ever _quite_ expect to be dubbed Sir Peter Wolfsbane in my life before, I can tell you!"

"I meant to thank you, Peter," Susan said, catching him by surprise with a sweet peck on his cheek. "If I don't need a big brother, this afternoon _did_ prove I need a knight!"

He blushed so deeply in the dark that he was afraid he glowed red. "And so do you have one, Susan Pevensie," Peter said, impulsively handing her his scabbard. "For now and for good."

It was a promise lightly uttered but weightily felt. Perhaps, Peter thought, at long last, he had found his place of belonging with Susan. Not the tutor, as to Edmund; not the playmate, as to Lucy; but a knight, as a champion to her honor.

Susan accepted his pledge with a solemn nod. "And friend?" she asked, not yet fully satisfied.

"As long as you'll have me," Peter said, smiling. Then he seemed to think better of it and added, with a rueful inflection, "Only longer still."

A/N: only one or two chapters left for the end. :D


	10. Nemesis Nevermore

Epilogue: Nemesis Nevermore

After they returned through the wardrobe, it was hard to remember the decades spent as Narnian kings and queens. Peter remembered, dreamlike, a time of trumpets and valor; honor and magnificence. Snippets of a glorious spring, dewy and of showy blossoms. In the crank of an engine or shrill call of a teapot on boil he might suddenly hear a deeper, mellower tone: the roaring of a Lion. But while he grasped at these fragments of memory, the promise of Narnia slipped through his fingers –as it did all of them.

Tempers soon shortened. They had tried to get back to Narnia for weeks to no avail and they were now slowly losing hope.

"Will you shut up about Narnia?" Edmund interrupted Lucy when the little girl observed aloud that the morning frost on the windows reminded her of snow and started to embark on a retelling of the day she'd first met Mr. Tumnus. "It's no good going on about it! If Aslan wants us back, he'll bring us back! There's nothing we can do to hurry it."

"Mind your manners, Ed!" Peter had growled from his brooding stance in the corner of the room.

Edmund suddenly turned on him, quick as a cat, black eyes flashing venomously. "And you can quit bossing me around! You're not High King anymore! You're a ruddy charity work of my parents!"

"Ed!" Susan spoke up, quietly furious. "What are you saying to your brother?"

Edmund blinked, his face growing blank and very pale. "I- I don't know." He looked over at Peter with black eyes that now churned in confusion. "I'm sorry, Pete. Don't know what got into me."

Peter was shaken, too. "Shouldn't have yelled at you, I expect. We're not in Narnia anymore, after all."

--

Later that night Peter woke Susan. He knelt at the side of her bed softly calling her name. "Susan, Susan."

"Peter?" Susan murmured, pulling herself up onto her elbows. "Whatever is the matter?"

"I think we're changing back," Peter said, the pain clear in his voice.

"What do you mean?" she asked. "I'm sorry, dearest – I don't understand." Her fingers lightly brushed his silky head, soothing him.

Peter looked up at her and studied the midnight waves of hair framing the beautiful, sweetly smiling face; by the faint moonlight spilling through the bedroom window, Susan's light blue nightdress could almost be mistaken for a queen's gown. He recognized the Gentle Queen in her touch and her look and something of the tightness in his stomach eased.

"You're still here," he said softly. "But, by Aslan, for how long?" He buried his face in the cool folds of her lap.

"Is this about what happened with Edmund earlier today?" Susan asked.

"It's bound to happen to all of us, I think," Peter said. "We're all forgetting –and that means we're going to change back to how things were before."

He saw the worried crinkle of Susan's brow. "Maybe so," she whispered. "But Pete, what's been fixed once can be fixed again. You and Ed –"

Peter grasped her hand and held it. "It's not worry over Ed that won't let me sleep," he said, his voice breaking. "Oh, Susan, _you_ were by far Narnia's best and greatest change from life here in England!"

He heard her gentle sigh; felt her heavy head lean against his. "Some changes last forever, Peter," she reassured him, voice very quiet and sure. "Perhaps I can't be your queen here. But, dearest, never again could I be your nemesis."

Yet as the days passed things were indeed different. Less and less could Peter trace the Gentle Queen in Susan's features. The fourteen year old girl grew remote; inscrutable under his gaze. And Peter himself grew so lost in the strangeness of their second youth that he no longer knew who he was nor who he should be.

A/N: Thank you to everyone who weighed in on the sequel or no-sequel decision! :) Even though I think this story can be read as a stand-alone, I will indeed attempt a sequel since my original plan has always been to re-imagine Peter n Susan's dynamic up to the Last Battle. The sequel is tenuously titled "Her Magnificent Champion".


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